


Once More

by SpazzticRevenge



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe Traveling, Alternate Universes, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, M/M, Parallel Universes, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-13 07:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10509141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpazzticRevenge/pseuds/SpazzticRevenge
Summary: In every world Yuuri was destined to die.Viktor was determined to find the one world where he would live."We'll be together again, lyubov moya. That I promise."





	1. Chapter 1

Viktor fell to his knees before the headstone, unable to remain on his feet in his shock. It had been so long since he had felt warmth and now, as he leant against cold grey, shadowed by a blinding white, all he could feel was the ice prickling into his clothes, his skin, his heart. Yuuri was gone. Slipped through his fingers. Again.

"I was too late," Viktor whispered out into the frozen air, numb to the words even as they left an open wound somewhere in his soul. "I found you too late."

His gloved hand shook as it reached out, trembling fingers sliding along every character of his beloved's name. As his first tear fell, drifting quietly down a pale cheek, Viktor clenched his teeth before he ripped off the black leather barrier keeping him from feeling what was left of Yuuri, his husband, his one and only. It didn't matter that they had never met within the present timeline. Yuuri would always be his love. Always.

Now bare, his fingers met stone once more, but it did little to assuage his aching heart. He pushed himself passed the flowers and lantern left in front of the headstone, uncaring as the goodbyes of others spilled into the snow. He had to get closer. He had to feel what was left. With his forehead pressed against Yuuri's name, Viktor allowed himself to fall apart. An ugly sob tore from his throat, a feeling of emptiness both hauntingly familiar and startlingly new blossoming in his chest.

This time, he didn't even get a chance to see Yuuri. To hold him, feel him, love him. They'd been perfect strangers in this lifetime. Katsuki Yuuri lived the bulk of his life in Japan as Viktor Nikiforov lived his in Russia, separated by land, sea, and anonymity.

It had to have been better than being separated by death.

Viktor had woken up in this life too late. After leaving his last attempt at saving Yuuri behind, he'd woken up in a new world, still himself as far as the mirror and all of the people in his life were concerned.

He didn't allow any time to pass. He didn't stop to think about who he was now or what his current life held for him. His one thought had been of Yuuri and nothing stopped him from seeking the younger man out. Not a word from his parents or friends could halt his steps. He was a man on a mission.

The only thing that managed to tie him down, like poisonous vines that gripped him with unforgiving thorns rooted in reality, was the information that Yuuri had already died. Yuuri had died in Detroit as he'd been studying abroad, going for an ecology degree or something of the sort. It had been a freak accident, or so the online paper had said, but Viktor knew it was just death's cruel idea of a joke. Yuuri's body had been shipped back to his family in Hasetsu where he was cremated and buried in a cemetery amongst his ancestors.

Viktor hadn't believed a word of it. He hopped on a plane that had been practically ready for takeoff, sure that everything he'd read had been wrong. Yuuri was fine. He was alive. The only way Yuuri died was in his arms.

How could Yuuri die if Viktor had not been there to hold him? To see it? To witness it? To burn the memory deep into his soul where his sanity had shattered?

The truth cut into him like a jagged piece of glass. His headstone was real. The look on the Katsukis' faces had been real. Viktor had never wanted to scream so badly in his life. Not since his first Yuuri had been taken from him, all too soon and far from willing.

Falling against the stone, Viktor laid there, the snow falling to melt along his flushed face and lost expression. His gaze trailed across the objects strewn across the ground, left in the wake of his haste to feel Yuuri again. His mind fell back to the Katsukis and he gasped out at another wave of pain that overcame him. They hadn't known him. He'd shown up at Yu-topia, beyond relieved to at least see Yuuri's family, _his_ family, but all he'd gotten were blank stares filled with sorrow, their voices withdrawn as they'd told a 'friend from Detroit that had been out of the country during his accident' where he could find their son's gravesite. It was easy to remember just how much of a stranger he was then, even though the inn felt more familiar to him than any other place within this world.

The air was quiet around him, empty, and yet in the whistle of the light winds there was a ballad that spoke of loneliness and loss. He'd experienced that song often enough, most times when he was in the same position, limply splayed against his lover's resting place.

"Well, Yuuri," he spoke, words rough and tight with longing, "I suppose it's nice to meet you." He laughed, a heavy, self-loathing chuckle that made him cringe. He hated this, the fact that this was a Yuuri he had never known. He grieved for the man, for what could have been. "My name is Viktor Nikiforov and I'm your-" His words stopped there, tangled and bunched in his throat. He couldn't say husband, lover, partner, friend, or acquaintance. Even the word _stranger_ held too much familiarity.

He laughed again and this time it was lighter, like birds taking flight from his chest. "You probably think I'm a weirdo, huh? Some random guy falling apart on your grave. Yeah, I'd think I was a weirdo if I were you, too." He turned to face those etched characters, wiping the snow from the crevices as if he were brushing away stray tears. "I know we don't know each other, but I would have loved you, Yuuri. With every breath I took, I would have loved you… as I have loved every other you that I have known."

His lips met the stone and for a moment he could almost feel a warmth there, something sweet and strong and undeniably Yuuri, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. His eyes misted as he pulled away, stepping down to sit more firmly on the ground with his back to the Yuuri of this world. It was time to leave. He couldn't remain any longer. His mission had been over from the beginning. They weren't meant to be together in this world, and now it was time to go on to the next, to grasp at another chance, no matter how heart-breaking the outcome.

He'd die a million times just to get one more moment.

The blade in his palm shook over his wrist, like it didn't want to take his life. Or maybe it was his hand that was shaking and he was the one wavering with his decision. It didn't get any easier. At least, not yet. He imagined that one day, after he'd seen Yuuri die enough times, killing himself would be without pain or hesitation.

"Goodbye, Yuuri. I wish I could have known you. You were a beautiful person, just as you always are."

He held no real guilt in leaving this world behind. He didn't know these people. This life was not his own, and he couldn't make it his own, not without Yuuri. Makkachin didn't even exist in this world, which was a relief. His dog was the only thing he ever worried about leaving behind.

He stared up at the sky and waited through the pain. His life would be tugged from his body, but he wouldn't die. He never did. Instead, he would listen to that ballad, full of sorrow and woe, and watch as a multitude of colors danced in his vision, ready to take him to the next world. His last breath was an easy one of release as he slipped forward. His last thought was one of hope.

_Yuuri, don't be too far out of my reach this time…_


	2. Chapter 2

Viktor awoke in another world. For the longest moment he couldn't move, couldn't smell, taste, hear, or feel. He couldn't even open his eyes to see. His lungs betrayed him, refusing to pull in air. It was like he'd woken up in a corpse, a body that was no longer alive and therefore could not support him. It was simply dead weight. Dead. Like him.

He fought off the urge to panic. It wasn't anything new. Not anymore.

It was the usual adjustment that came with traversing world lines, he assumed. It happened every time. No matter where or when he awoke it took time for his soul to align itself and he always had to work his new body into submission.

The awareness of gravity came first, giving the full weight of his body meaning. He could feel his existence firming out into the body he now inhabited, blood beginning to rush and circulate as his organs kicked to life. His body warmed and his skin began to feel. It prickled against something that covered him from his shoulders down to his toes. He came to recognize that he was swaddled in a cocoon of crisp fabric.

The first drag of air was harsh, hitching down his throat with scratchy claws until it hit his lungs. He worked the air in and out until his breathing levelled out and his body no longer felt like it was imploding. The air eased his senses of taste and smell back to him. They were coaxed in by the scent drifting into the room, a mouthwatering aroma that he knew to be Hiroko's cooking.

_Yuuri's family_ …

There was a ringing in his ears, starting out dull until it was as sharp as a blade stabbing into his eardrums. There was a loud pop, and the ringing was gone. The sounds of the inn came to him then, the usual bustle of the early morning. Rushing steps. The slamming of a shoji. Hushed whispers.

His next challenge was his eyes. His eyelids twitched with the effort to open them. The colors were still there, sympathetic friends swirling and sparkling in his vision like fairies, telling him that everything was fine. But they weren't what he wanted to see. What he wanted to see was-

Even through the blurriness that obscured his view into something of a melted watercolor painting he could make out the man at his side. The curve of his form was comforting. The hue of his pallor was soothing. The tune of his soft snores were like an endless dream whisking him away from the horrors reality had bestowed upon him. And when the man finally came into focus, down to the very curl of every eyelash, Viktor fought tooth and nail to get his body to move.

Yuuri was there. He was alive. He was already with him. Viktor didn't have to worry about finding him, or having already lost him. The relief that flooded into him could have easily rivaled the first time he encountered another Yuuri.

His muscles spasmed to life and he grabbed onto Yuuri with every ounce of feeling he had housed inside of his body. The small bed already held them close together, but it wasn't enough. He squeezed his form, small, warm, _alive,_ tight to his chest, so he could feel Yuuri's breaths and marvel at the beating of his heart. Every thrum was a miracle to Viktor, who had experienced its silence more times than anyone should have to bear. But then Yuuri was moving, squirming in his hold and grumbling something nearly unintelligible to his euphoria-hazed mind.

"V-Viktor… I can't-… can't breathe-"

Or maybe it was just because his mouth was too squished against his chest.

Viktor let go, but only by a hair. Yuuri surfaced from his arms, a dramatic gasp of breath given as if he'd been drowning, before he glowered over at Viktor with sleepy eyes.

"I know you're mad at me, but suffocation is a bit of a drastic punishment, don't you think?"

_Mad at you… Yuuri, anger is the last emotion I feel right now._ "I'm not mad at you." His voice was rough, like it hadn't been used in months, garbled rocks tossed around amongst his vocal cords. "I could never be mad at you. I love you too much. If I have to suffocate you with my love to show you that, then I-"

"Just stop."

He didn't heed Yuuri's words. He nuzzled his face into Yuuri's mound of mussed hair, breathing in the man he hadn't even been able to touch in the last world.

Yuuri rolled his eyes and tried to shimmy out of Viktor's hold, but the man held firm. Nothing was getting him to let go. A part of him, a dark side that his original world had never known, wanted to keep Yuuri in his grasp forever, locked up and caged for protection. But that hadn't worked out either…

"Stop it. I'm serious." And he sounded serious. There was a fire there, tightly tucked frustration slipping out into his tone, and Viktor wasn't used to it. It startled him into loosening his hold. Yuuri took advantage. He slid away from him, quickly sitting up and sliding his glasses onto his nose. There was a huff, like Yuuri wanted to express something more, but it stayed housed in the tension of his shoulders.

Viktor took stock of his surroundings. He was definitely inside the inn, in Yuuri's old room, to be exact. _Current room?_ He didn't know this world, so he couldn't be sure. The feel of it, of everything around him, could have almost tricked him into thinking it was his old life. Some worlds weren't so kind. The last one had been a bitter pill among many.

"You can't just joke around our fight, Viktor. I may have agreed to let you sleep here last night, but that doesn't mean we're okay."

Viktor felt that like a slap, a bright snap of pain that clung to his cheek. Right. He was in a new world. He had to live the life this world's Viktor had left. As much as he wanted to cling to Yuuri, tease out all of his soul and meld it with his own, he couldn't. This Viktor and Yuuri had been fighting. About what… he had yet to find out.

He sat himself up against the wall, pushing a still lethargic hand through his fringe, and glanced over. Yuuri wasn't looking at him. He sat there, head tilted down, like only the floor could know his secrets. The words came out before Viktor truly gave them thought. "I'm sorry."

Yuuri snapped a hand down, and Viktor had to wonder why Yuuri was mad if Viktor was supposed to be the angry one. "I don't want an apology. You already said you're sorry. I don't want you to be sorry. I want-" He bit his lip, teeth stretching skin until it bled. Viktor wanted to apologize again. He wanted to do anything to get that look off of Yuuri's face. This Viktor had to have done something wrong, _really_ wrong, to put a look like that upon his Yuuri.

"I don't know what else to say."

"It's been almost a year." Yuuri finally met his gaze and there was pain. It festered inside of his chest, impressed upon him by Yuuri's look alone. "I know you just want us to continue where we left off, but-" He shook his head, hand turning into a sharp claw against the sheets. "You shouldn't have come back." Yuuri got up, dressed quickly and stormed out. Viktor could only blink after him.

He blinked. And blinked some more. Somehow it didn't stop the tears from surfacing.

Yuuri didn't want him. This Yuuri, one he'd fought for, one he'd given his life for, didn't want him. What had he done to hurt Yuuri so? He brought a hand to his face, sucking in a sharp breath to let it sink in. He was always pretty emotional after surfacing, a newborn babe that didn't know how to experience everything around him. The circumstances he'd woken up in hardly helped.

He had to get over it. He'd woken up in worse situations. He just had to figure out what this world held for him, why he and Yuuri were fighting, mend their relations, and save the man's life. This wasn't going to be just another world that he looked back on with regret. This would be his new world. He _would_ save this Yuuri.

"Yeah," Viktor said in a huff of breath, "like that's so simple."

He hesitated before he looked down upon his left forearm. There, in bright blue numbers that only he could see, was his time limit. _I have two months…_ His arm had been blank in his last world, but he'd attributed that to the fact that he and Yuuri had yet to meet. His arm had been bare in the fourth world until Viktor had found him, and then the numbers suddenly appeared, ticking down before he could even think.

_Okay, Yuuri. Time to make up. Then we have to stop your death._

Viktor rushed out of the bedroom after Yuuri. He tripped in the hallway, clipped apologies slipping from his lips as he nearly took out other guests in his way. He knocked into Mari as he came around the corner, the woman floundering to keep the dishes in her hands.

"Sheesh, Viktor. What's got you running around like your ass is on fire?" He tried to help her steady the food in her hands, but she turned herself away from him, glaring at him for something that obviously had nothing to do with almost laying her flat. The look was protective in nature, and Viktor suddenly felt like an outsider. God, even Mari was mad at him. What had he done to Yuuri?

"I'm looking for Yuuri, actually."

Her look soured further and Viktor felt an icy wave of second-hand shame crash over him. "Why don't you just give him a breath? It's been a year and you act like you're still engaged." The woman walked off without sparing him another care.

Viktor blanched at the information. He instantly brought his hand to his face, relieved to see the ring still shining on his finger. His mind drew itself back to just minutes before. He thought back to Yuuri, sitting up, fisting the sheets, finger bare of their love.

Viktor couldn't breathe.

"Vicchan, dear." Hiroko was behind him, warmth still present in her voice. That was a good sign. Yuuri's mama still cared about him. "Let's get some meat on those bones. Sit, sit," she urged him forward with a gentle hand, "Yuuri's helping me out, but he'll be around."

Viktor numbly sat down. He ate what she gave him, watching Yuuri when the man was in sight. Every time he saw Yuuri's bare hand, it caused his throat to tighten further.

They'd been engaged in this timeline, Mari had said so. Viktor still wore his ring, so he obviously still cared. But Yuuri? What caused Yuuri to hate him so much that he would it off? His Yuuri. A man so full of love and beautiful hope. Viktor didn't understand it.

* * *

Viktor watched from the sidelines. Yuuri taught lessons at Ice Castle now. He stood in front of the little ones before him, his smile and words of soft encouragement instilling easy confidence in his pupils. This wasn't the first world that led Yuuri into coaching, but Viktor never tired of watching. He was a natural, handling even the most difficult and anxious child with ease. Yuuri knew the struggle, what it was like to feel it, live it, and overcome it. That was easy to observe from his teaching.

Viktor utilized this time to do some research. His fingers ripped across his phone like lightning, finding out everything he could about this world. Not every world was the same, or even close. Some held the appearance well, imposters carefully cloaked in Viktor's normal, but something was usually off. In one world Yuuri didn't make the podium at the Grand Prix. In another Viktor was his competitor that season, instead of his coach. In some worlds a person didn't even exist, like the time no one knew who Phichit was, and Viktor had to pretend like he didn't either. And then there was the last one where they didn't even know each other. Or the one before that where absolutely nothing made sense.

Viktor didn't know how many worlds there were out there, but he'd already traversed through enough to sate any curiosity he might have once had.

This timeline seemed to be more parallel than others. It was much like his home world, but with one very real hitch. Yuuri retired after the Grand Prix like Viktor hadn't wanted. He had gone back to Hasetsu to help around the onsen and Ice Castle. Viktor had returned to the skating world. Without Yuuri.

His loss showed.

He watched Sixth World Viktor's skating in videos, completely disconnected from the man on his screen. There was so much untamed anger in his skating, and a raging bitterness that was hard to endure. His movements were rife with tension, his distress carved into the ice for all to see. He was visibly distraught, the cause plain on his face, bare in his performance. It spoke of abandonment. Of rage and regret and heartache and desolation. Viktor knew those feelings well, but those emotions had been born out of losing Yuuri to death. This…

_"Let's end this."_

A memory surfaced in his mind, but it wasn't his.

_"Thank you so much, Viktor, for all you've done. I couldn't have had a better coach. No one else could have helped me shine like you have."_

_"Why are you doing this!?"_

_"This has been a fantastic dream, something my dime-a-dozen self never could have imagined. But this is as far as I'm meant to go."_

_"Yuuri, don't-"_

It belonged to Sixth World Viktor.

The hazy, foreign memory passed, and he gripped his head as the pain ebbed. He wasn't sure of much, but now he knew a little more of the strife that had caused the rift between them.

Yuuri left him. He chose Viktor's career over his own.

And Viktor let him. Stupid, moronic Sixth World Viktor let Yuuri walk away. Let Yuuri leave his dreams all so Viktor could return to stardom. Viktor never thought he could hate himself more, not while Yuuri was still alive.

Makkachin whined from her place at his side. He looked down into his dog's eyes and softened his features for her. "It's good to have you here, girl," he cooed, smooshing her nose against his. "I hated not having you with me last time, but it was for the best." He stared down at his poodle, praying to any god that would listen that he wouldn't have to leave this Makkachin behind. He wanted this world to be the last, even if he had to live as a Viktor he already couldn't stand.

"What are you doing here?"

Viktor looked up, catching a pissed Yuuri standing in the front of him, no longer donned in his skates. All of his young pupils were gone. There was just him and his anger. _No_ , Viktor realized, _he's not just angry. He's scared._ With the memory came the feelings, remnants of Sixth World Viktor invading his consciousness. He could see this Yuuri more clearly now. Hidden within that anger was a cowardly fear, disguising itself so it couldn't be known. Yuuri was angry, and about what he still wasn't sure, but the younger man was more scared than anything.

Viktor wasn't sure what to do, but he couldn't let this continue. Their fight was keeping him from Yuuri, from protecting him and saving him. Most importantly, this fight was keeping him from being with him. He couldn't be too focused on his feelings of confusion and self-hatred. He couldn't allow Yuuri to keep him at arm's length when he needed to be the man's armor.

He stood up, face a ragged mess of emotions that weren't his own, but somehow were. "Talk to me."

"Just go home, Viktor."

"Not until you talk to me."

Yuuri clenched his jaw, teeth a tight lock on any words that could reveal true meaning. For the first time in this world, Viktor allowed himself to really look at this Yuuri, the man he'd yet to know, yet somehow always knew. He looked the same, from his jet black hair to his faded training clothes to the faint creases in his lips. He acted the same, still squirming in discomfort when put under scrutiny for too long, still bottling up his true feelings and forsaking them for the people he cared dearly for. Viktor could have easily convinced himself that this Yuuri was the same.

His mind flashed briefly to his Yuuri, the original that would always remain enclosed in his heart, but he let him fade. _You're my Yuuri now and I'm not letting go. You can fight me all you want. I'm here to stay. I will make sure of that this time._

He drew in a breath, breathing in the world around him, taking on Sixth World Viktor and all that he was, all that he had been. He couldn't keep looking in from the outside. If he wanted to live this life with Yuuri, he was going to have to adopt the man's pain, his bitterness, his devastation, his love. Sixth World Viktor still wore the ring. He came back to Yuuri even after their separation. He still loved him. A mistake couldn't keep him from his love. In any world.

"I see the disappointment, you know?"

Viktor's train of thought crashed and burned. There were tears in Yuuri's eyes and Viktor was sharply reminded of his one attempt at shattering Yuuri's heart.

"You say you love me, that you don't care how I live my life, but I know the truth. I'm not the pork cutlet bowl fatale that you trained. I'm not the skater you fell in love with. I help my parents alongside Mari and I teach kids here. That's it, that's my life. I'm a _failure_ to you and I know it. If you came back here-"

"You're not a failu-"

" _If you came back here_ ," he continued pointedly, "to bring me back because you retired, then just leave. You haven't said it, but you don't have to. I know what you want and it's not this life." He shook his head adamantly, his glasses going eschew on his nose with the force. "I'm happy here. I like my life. I got to skate for you and I got to be with you, but that's my past. I'm ready to live my life boringly. Anonymously." Yuuri looked down at his feet, fists balled so tight at his sides that his veins became visible, streaking his skin with blue frustration. "You deserve so much more than this…Why are you here when you should be skating this season? I don't want you here. I'm done-"

"I don't believe you."

Yuuri jerked with the statement, gaze flying up to meet his.

"Even if what you were saying wasn't full of lies, I would still stay. I want to be with you, Yuuri. Whether that's here at Ice Castle or out in front of our fans I don't care. Because I want you. It may not be what I 'deserve,' but it's what I want."

Yuuri shook his head, like he didn't believe it, didn't _want_ to believe it. "You can't mean-" Viktor hushed him with a tender finger on his lips.

"You didn't retire so you could live a peaceful existence. Don't try to play me. You left so I could live out the end of my career, but I should have never let you go. I died without you." Yuuri choked on a sob, more tears bubbling up behind his lenses, but he remained otherwise silent. "I died out there on that ice every time I had to skate without you by my side. I don't know how I stayed away for a year, a whole _year_ ," he repeated, still enraged at this world's Viktor, "but I'm here now and I'm staying. If you're done, then so am I. I don't want to skate or coach without you. There is no Viktor Nikiforov without Katsuki Yuuri. I know that now."

Well, Sixth World Viktor knew that now. _He_ had known that for a while. It became all too apparent as he'd held a cold Yuuri in his arms, staring into brown irises that lost their shine.

_"Yuuri, don't go. D-Don't leave me. Please! Please, Yuuri, just breathe. Say something! Anything! You can't leave me here alone. I need you!"_

A wetness formed on his own cheeks and he closed his eyes to the memory. Now that one was his own. _A blast from the past, as they say._

The warm pad of a thumb smoothed the tears away and he opened his eyes to Yuuri cradling his face. The man was on his tip toes, staring at him with an expression he knew well. It was honest and open, a river of endearing sorrow pouring down his face. "I couldn't stay knowing that I was murdering your career. Figure skating is a part of you. I felt like I was painting the ice with your blood and I couldn't take it anymore."

"So you decided to rip out my heart instead?" Yuuri's face fell, brow creased with distress as he tried to pull away. Viktor didn't let him leave. He held on tight, like he always would. " _Yuuri_ , I made a choice and that choice was you. Now I'm here making that choice again. Why don't you want me?"

"I know disapproval, Viktor, and what it looks like on you. I couldn't be your student and not know." He gave a small chuckle despite himself, but it was brief, dimming with his smile. "It's been there in your eyes since you got back. When you were talking to me last night, it was there. I was talking about coming in to teach this morning and you just," he gave a vague hand gesture, face pinched, "looked at me like I was throwing my life away. I don't want to be looked down upon. I _love_ you, but I can't stand that look from you. Not you. I know I'm a disappointment, but I don't want to have it reflected back at me every time I look into your eyes."

Viktor grimaced at his predecessor's actions, but then he had a thought. It may not have been what Sixth World Viktor had felt, but it was what he felt. That was what mattered, right? He was Sixth World Viktor now. "Maybe I am disappointed."

Yuuri looked like he'd been punched in the gut as his shoulders drooped. He tossed his weight back onto the balls of his feet, no longer eye level with Viktor.

"I'm disappointed in you because you're lying. To me. To everyone. But mostly you're lying to yourself. You're not happy like this. If you were I'd be fine. I'd marry you and live here in Hasetsu and train kids to become superstars." He gripped onto Yuuri's hands and cradled them against his chest, finger tracing where a gold band should have lied. "It would be my dream, because I would be with you."

"Viktor-"

"But you aren't. You still want to skate, I can see it. Even just today as I watched you teach, I could tell. You were wonderful with those kids, but there was sorrow in your eyes as you watched them, an envy that you can't bury. Don't give up on your dream, Yuuri. Not for me. Not for anything else. Skate because you want to. Because you love it. Because _we_ love it." Yuuri began to shake, and Viktor pulled him into an embrace. He was practically begging now, but that was fine with him. He wanted Yuuri to be happy. Alive and happy. That was all he ever wanted. "I want you to come back because _you_ want to come back. So stop lying. Stop pushing me away. Let me coach you, let me love you, and for god's sake let me marry you."

Yuuri started giggling through his tears, burying himself further into Viktor's chest. "Yes! Yes to everything, Viktor. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I left."

"Don't be sorry, zolottse moyo. I should have never let you leave." Yuuri surprised him by leaning up and kissing him. It was desperate and heartfelt and Viktor couldn't tell if it was Yuuri clinging onto him with all of his might or the other way around. They tangled themselves together, bodies locked tight and mouths seared. There was a brightness, shining out into his soul, warming him, completing him. Viktor sank into Yuuri's presence. The man was his again. At his side where he belonged. He wanted to mold himself into the man, climb into his chest and live there. Yuuri was his home.

The unnatural blue glow caught his eye, the countdown a dagger pointed directly at his beloved.

Bitterness crawled into his mind, cozying up to him like a loyal pet. Viktor may have reconciled things in a way Sixth World Viktor had been unable to, but there was still a darkness lying in wait. Yuuri was still in danger. If he wanted to keep living in this world, and stay by this Yuuri, he was going to have to find a way to thwart death's plans.

Or keep watching Yuuri die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was more of a setup for this world as Viktor learns to take on his new role, as well as an introduction into the way his world traveling works. I gave them a bit of a hurdle to overcome right off the bat, but that was a lot smaller than what will come. And it certainly pales in comparison to what Viktor's already had to go through with Yuuri. More on that will come, too. So? What do you think? Will Viktor save this Yuuri? Will this be his forever world? Or will we have more Yuuris to meet?
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> ~Spazz


End file.
